Predator
by Claire D'Aubigne
Summary: For Kyo, the obsession started in 1996. IorixKyo.


**Author's notes: **For this fic, Kyo was born in 1980 and Iori in 1976. SNK made a mistake on one of their profiles, though I can't point to where I found that information now. Kyo is 15 going on 16, so there is some underage kissing going on, and spoilers for KoF 1995, which is so old I'm not even sure it counts as a spoiler anymore. :P For fanfic100 on LJ.

You may consider this story disclaim'd. :D

* * *

For Kyo, it started in 1996.

High from his last victory, washing the blood off of his knuckles using a bottle of water in a field close by the fighting venue, the fifteen year old Kyo Kusanagi called out to his rival. "If you're going to stalk me, you might as well come out and speak to me."

"What makes you think I have anything to say to you, Kusanagi?" Yagami replied, stepping out of the shadows. He was twenty that year, and he watched his little enemy wash his hands with a disinterested air.

"_You're_ following _me._" In hindsight, it was probably not the smartest idea to call the man over, considering that the last time they'd had a face-to-face discussion, Iori had vowed to kill him. But Kyo wasn't known for putting a lot of effort into anything, really, and that included forethought.

"I'm protecting my interests. Can't let anyone else kill you before I have the chance."

"Tch. The only person interested in killing anyone during a tournament is _you,_ Yagami. And you say you hate violence."

The minute the words were out, Kyo regretted them. He watched as Iori's lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Memorizing that silly little fighter biography? Why, Kyo, I didn't know you _cared_ so much."

"Shut up." He couldn't even come up with a decent insult to fire back. The truth was, he _had_ been memorizing it. He told himself that it was a "know thine enemy" thing and nothing more. They were, after all, the most popular rivalry in the tournament.

"Mommy and Daddy letting you travel alone this year? Their little boy is all grown up, hm?"

It was everything Kyo could do to keep from flinching. The memory of fighting his father—a real fight, not one of their sparring sessions—in last year's tournament was still fresh and painful in his mind. He whirled, taking a couple of steps forward and stepping close enough to get face-to-face with Iori. "Don't talk about my parents."

The older man smirked. "Ooh, I'm terrified, little Kusanagi. Are you going to beat me up?"

"I might!"

Iori just laughed, pressing his lips to Kyo's and jumping away before the boy could react. "I wait for the day when you're big enough to do that," he taunted.

He gave Kyo a mocking little bow, and he was gone before Kyo had found a decent response.

hr

The next time they crossed paths was in New York, the next stop on Kyo's tournament bracket. He had no idea where Iori stood, or if he had already lost, but it had been Kyo to follow Iori this time and not the other way around.

"Yagami!"

Iori paused, and suddenly, Kyo found his body wedged between the filthy brick wall and and Iori's. For one wild, thrilling second, he thought _This is it, I'm going to die here._

But Iori hadn't restrained his wrists enough to really make him worry, and he knew that his rival was aware of it. He could break free if he really wanted to.

So why wasn't he?

"Hasn't anyone ever explained to you what happens to pretty little boys in dark alleys when they follow strangers?"

"Oh, knock it off, Iori. You're not going to kill me tonight. What do you even want, anyway?"

"You're the one following me this time, baby boy, you tell me."

"I'm not your baby boy. I wanted to know why you kissed me."

Iori leaned closer, brushing his lips over Kyo's. "Because I wanted to, of course. Did you like it?"

"No!" Kyo snapped, obstinately. It was a lie, of course—he wouldn't have followed Iori if he hadn't been curious at the very least, and he didn't have anything to compare it with, besides. He would only be sixteen in December, and hadn't found the time to kiss someone he really liked just yet.

Iori knew he was lying. Kyo could see it in his eyes, in the curve of his lips and the way he dropped his gaze, meeting Kyo's eyes coyly through his lashes. "We'll have to change that."

Kyo didn't have time to argue. One second, he was considering what his next move should be, and the next, Iori's mouth was pressed against his. Kyo wrenched his hands free, tangling them in Iori's thick hair as the redhead nibbled and sucked at his lips. It wasn't the sweet kind of first kiss that Kyo thought he'd be sharing with someone special, no tender exploration—more a clash of teeth and tongue with someone who was fully aware of the fact that he wasn't going to break.

Without pulling his mouth from Kyo's, Iori stepped away just enough to cup Kyo's ass in strong hands and lift, hosting him effortlessly off of the ground. Kyo's legs wrapped around his waist and he broke away, opening his eyes and staring down at his enemy, who for once had nothing smartass to say.

Their lips met again, desperately, Iori's hand slipping beneath Kyo's t-shirt to trace over muscles that would, with time, be defined and flawless. Kyo was only vaguely aware of moaning into Iori's mouth, Iori's feral growl in return.

He was panting when they broke apart, and a little unsteady (though he would never admit it) when Iori sat him back on his feet. He couldn't figure out what to say, so he said nothing, wondering whether they could get back to his hotel without being seen by a fan and curious about how he could ask.

He never got the chance—Iori leaned close enough to run his tongue over the shell of Kyo's ear, making the boy shiver again. "Remember me when you look at the moon, little Kusanagi," he whispered, escaping for the second time when Kyo couldn't form a reply.

That was beginning to become an annoying habit.


End file.
